Blood and Whiskey
by KittyPryde99
Summary: Tony's life has been a steady downwards spiral, and he sees no end to his misery. He decides it's time to end it. Slight Science Bros. shipping which may escalate if I decide to continue the story. Rated T for language and serious topics (self harm, suicide).
1. Chapter 1

Tony Stark was blackout drunk. But this time, it wasn't at a party. There were no girls at the tower tonight, not even any friends to keep him company. Just a man and his emotions. He lay, semi-conscious, on his bedroom floor. A bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey lay next to him, leaking a bit onto the floor by his head. His head pounded, and his shirt was sticky from the alcohol dripping down it. But at least this was better than being left alone with his thoughts.

Ever since the New York incident, Tony had been in a steady downwards spiral. First the confusion, then the anxiety attacks, then Pepper leaving him, then the drinking. But the drinking is never just drinking, oh no. it's always to block something out, isn't it? So what exactly is it that this wealthy, charismatic playboy wants to get out of his head? The flashbacks. Those moments in battle, right before a kill. It's no wonder so many soldiers have psychological issues. It'd have some effect on even the strongest. People always talk about watching the light go out of someone's eyes, and how that's the worst part of it. But that's not true. the worst part is the moment before that, when you see on their faces, that there's absolutely no hope left for them. They've accepted the fact that they're going to die, and there's absolutely nothing they can do about it. They just lose the will to live. That, that's what really gets you.

Suddenly he was back Afghanistan, in a military truck on his way to a weapons demonstration. He was in a van with three military personnel, and there was a bit of an uncomfortable silence. "I feel like you're driving me to a court-martial. This is crazy. What did I do?" He joked, attempting to lighten the mood. " I feel like you're going to pull over and snuff me. What, you're not allowed to talk? Hey, Forrest!" One of the soldiers finally answered him

"We can talk, sir."

"Oh, I see, so it's personal?" He said, glad to have finally broken the awkward speech barrier.

"No, you intimidate them." Tony was shocked to hear a woman's voice coming from the driver's seat.  
"Good God, you're a woman. I honestly... I couldn't have called that." She laughed a bit. "I mean, I'd apologize, but isn't that what we're going for here? I thought of you as a soldier first."  
"I'm an airman." She told him, keeping her eyes on the road. "You have, actually, excellent bone structure there. I'm kind of having a hard time not looking at you now." She blushed, and stared straight ahead to try to hide it. "Is that weird? Come on, it's okay, laugh."

Now that they were all more comfortable, conversation was flowing easily. Tony had a way with people. One of the soldiers looked young, maybe 25 at most. "Would it be cool if I took a picture with you?" he asked hesitantly.

"It would be very cool." Tony replier encouragingly. The young man scooted towards him and held up a camera. He made a peace sign with his other hand. "No gang signs!" Tony joked, but the soldier took him a bit too seriously. "No, throw it up. I'm kidding." Just as he was clicking the button, they felt a jolt. There were a few seconds of chaos and panicking, and Tony as pushed out of the truck. Moments later, a burst of flames came from the van. Tony covered his face and looked away. Once he could feel that the heat was dying down, he looked back. Everyone who had been with him in the van was gone. Dead. Nothing but ashes. And with a jolt, he realised it was all his fault.

Tony would look back on this day for years to come as the day when it all began. This was the first death that was his responsibility and he had witnessed, the first that had really affected him personally. He had known his weapons were killing people, but until now, it hadn't been his problem. He had been detached. Now, it was personal.

These memories had been coming back to haunt Stark all too often. Especially now that Pepper was gone, Tony just didn't see a way out. Days were just passing by without any real meaning or purpose. He didn't know how much longer he could take it. He used to be someone. People used to want to be with him, get his autograph, take pictures. Now, not even those he considered friends wanted to hang around him. Some days, he just felt like giving up and ending it once and for all. Today was one of those days.

Tony raised the bottle he was clutching to his mouth, only to find that it was empty. Suddenly, a familiar voice sounded.

"Sir, are you alright? You have four missed calls on the system." Jarvis informed him. Tony grunted.

"Fine...'m fine..." the brown haired man mumbled from the floor.

"It appears that the levels of alcohol in our bloodstream are higher than is healthy, Sir."

"I just needa sleep, 's gonna be fine." He muttered hazily. "y'can go now." he made a feeble attempt to wave his hand at the monitor. A few moments later, he heard no reply, and assumed Jarvis was asleep. Tony managed to push himself into a sitting position, then prepared to drag himself onto his bed. As he pushed up, his head hit the corner of the polished wood bedside table. He let out a curse and a moan of pain. After a second attempt, Tony found himself sprawled out on his back on the elegant four poster bed. He raised a shaky hand to his head, and when he drew it away is was sticky and wet with blood and whiskey. He weakly attempted to wipe it off on his blue iron maiden t shirt, but couldn't put in the effort. This was the mess his life had become. Frankly, he thought, it wasn't much of a life. Not one worth living, anyways.

His head was pounding furiously. It was like someone had drilled through his temple and into the back of his head. Maybe an aspirin would help, thought Tony. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and winced. Even that small movement made him feel dizzy. The bathroom was only about five feet away, but five feet felt like five feet too much for him in his current state. On the other hand, he really needed something to help this headache. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and braced himself against the wooden frame. Slowly, he pushed up into standing position. His knees felt like they were about to give, so he staggered across to the bathroom as quickly as he could. He leant against the doorframe and breathed heavily. After getting his breath back, he stumbled into the room itself. The medicine cabinet sat right above the bathtub, so he sat down on the edge of the tub and began searching through the cupboard.

After a minute or so of searching, he found a bottle of aspirin. As he was pulling it out of the cupboard, a bottle of sleeping pills fell into his lap. He picked up the bottle and examined it. There was a large warning label on the side that read "WARNING: OVERDOSING ON THIS MEDICATION CAN BE FATAL." He turned it slowly in his hand. Downing this entire bottle would probably kill him. He'd be dead. No more problems, nothing to worry about. No more existing. Gone. Just like that. That would be so much easier... Suddenly, a voice jerked him out of his thoughts. Jarvis again. "Sir, you have a call waiting on the line from-"

"Tell 'em to call later, I'm busy" Tony managed to spit out.

"Alright, sir." Tony sighed and dropped his head into one hand. He tried to tell himself it was a stupid idea, but some part of him was telling him to take the sleeping pills. Nobody would miss him. Pepper could come back in to take over Stark Industries. Nobody needed him. And the guilt, the guilt was too much. Every night it haunted him, their faces. he could remember each one. The face of every single person, or alien, he had ever killed. They could have had families. They could have had kids. Maybe their parents were still alive. What poor soul had the job of telling someone's parents that their pride and joy, their precious angel, was dead? Who got to tell their wives?

Their wives. That brought back memories. Memories of nights in, parties, romantic dinners for two, and all the good times he'd had with Pepper. But those barely lasted a second before they turned to memories of fights, nights sleeping alone, and then finally the breakup. That breakup had destroyed him. He still remembered the last time she walked out the door, and how he had pleaded with her, but she wouldn't have it. She was still in charge of his company, and seeing her so often destroyed him. She was the most beautiful, funny, sexy, down to earth woman he had ever met. He couldn't believe he'd ever taken what they had for granted. He'd been too cocky, too self assured, and she was just sick of Tony. As a matter of fact, Tony was sick of Tony too.

So sick of himself, in fact, that he really didn't feel he deserved to live. He'd taken so many lives, what was one more? The only difference was, this life was his own. But he was no better a man than the countless others whose deaths could be blamed on him. He'd been destroying his life steadily for the last few months, really. Before, he'd go out and drink and party, then it had descended to staying in and drinking, and gradually sunk to this trainwreck he was now. Slumped half conscious on the edge of his bathtub, soaked in blood and whiskey. Half his blood probably was whiskey now, considering how much he'd drank. His body felt like it had been rolled over by a steamroller. Twice. And people always say, in these situations, "It gets better", but honestly, Tony didn't see much of a chance of that happening. Any fragment of hope he had had was now gone.

Subconsciously, he had unscrewed the cap for the sleeping pills. He looked into the bottle. It was mostly full. Perfect. Time to end this. He took a deep breath. He was in too much pain and not sober enough to write a note. That's what people usually did, wasn't it? It was to tell everyone they love goodbye. Well, there was nobody Tony loved, and nobody that loved him. He was alone. In one swift motion, he swung the bottle of pills to his lips and with a trembling hand, poured out as many as he could swallow. He gulped them down. This was it. It's over now. He'd only swallowed about a quarter of the bottle, which wasn't quite fatal. Just as he was lifting his hand again, he had a sudden convulsion and fell to the floor. His vision blurred as he rolled on the ground in excruciating pain. Lying on his side, he started to hyperventilate, and then vomited. The vomit sprayed all over the floor and himself. He was vaguely aware of some background noise, probably Jarvis again, but he couldn't focus on it. This was the end. He would never wear his Iron Man suit, never see Pepper, never laugh with Rhodey or Happy, never see Bruce or any of the other Avengers. This really was the end. His consciousness was slipping away. Someone burst into the room and there was some yelling, then he felt his body being lifted up into a comforting embrace. Whoever was holding him drew him in close, and he could feel who it was. Bruce. A ghost of a smile drifted across his face. Now, he could finally die happy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **Thanks so much for all the reviews, follows, and favourites! You guys are great! For those of you who wanted to know what happens at Tony's before they get to the hospital, ALL IN DUE TIME. If anybody's interested, there can be a flashback chapter later. If anybody is interested in beta-ing, I'm open to whoever wants to help, experienced or not. Although it's quite obvious, let me just say that I don't own the characters of Bruce Banner or Tony Stark, it's all owned by Marvel. The story is mine though! Please enjoy, and please leave me reviews so I can improve my writing!

* * *

Bruce hadn't slept all night. He'd ridden to the hospital with Tony in an ambulance, but when they arrived the doctor had told him he had to wait outside. Bruce had been sitting in the waiting room since then. He'd tried to sleep, but he was too worried about Tony to get any rest. He'd noticed Tony had been slipping in the last few months, but he'd never suspected it was this bad. And seeing Tony weak and vulnerable on the floor like that; it had done something to Bruce. Tony had always been the strong one, always ready with a witty comment or a smirk. He'd been hiding behind this wall for so long, nobody had even noticed when he needed help. Bruce felt partly guilty himself; he should have realised earlier that Tony was in danger. He should've been there for his friend, instead of hiding away in his lab. Although, in fairness, Tony spent an equal amount of time hidden away in his. A tap on the shoulder jerked Bruce away from his thoughts. A pretty blonde nurse was smiling at him cheerily. Bruce stood up suddenly. "How's Tony? Is he alright?" THe nurse gave him a sympathetic smile.

"We've finished pumping his stomach. He's still asleep, but you can come in and see him. He should be waking up sometime in the next hour, you're welcome to stay until then. After he's awake, we're going to have to ask that you leave after half an hour to let him get some rest." Bruce nodded his understanding, and got up to follow the nurse to Tony's room.

As Bruce pushed open the door, he had to hold back a gasp. Tony look as if he had aged twenty years since Bruce had found him. His body was frail and weak, and his skin was ghostly pale. He had a few grey hairs sprinkled through his hair and beard. There was an IV inserted into his left arm, and the surrounding area was an angry red. There was a large scar on his chest from where the arc reactor had once been, and his stomach below was bandaged. Tony still smelled like alcohol and vomit, but Bruce still moved towards him. He looked so out of place in this sparkly clean environment, the man lying on that cold white bed barely seemed like Tony.

Instinctually, Bruce had sat down by Tony's bedside. Stark's hand was dangling off of the edge of the bed. Without thinking, Bruce reached out to take it. Tony's fingers were cold, and his hand was limp. Bruce pulled the other man's hand into his own and held it reassuringly. Seeing this as her queue that Bruce wanted some time alone with the patient, The nurse left the room, reminding Bruce quickly to come get her when Tony woke. Bruce nodded, still entranced with Tony's hand.

Hands can tell you a lot about a person. For example, Tony's fingernails were very short and dirty, suggesting that he spent a lot of time working and didn't really care about his was true now, though it hadn't always been. Tony used to be quite vain, and although that had been annoying, Bruce had preferred that Tony to the one that lay before him now.

Tony's grip on Bruce's hand suddenly tightened. Bruce's eyes snapped to Tony's face immediately. A groan escaped Stark's mouth, and his eyelids began to slowly move open. Tony's eyes wandered the rooms for a few minutes before focusing on Bruce. Bruce looked at him, concerned. The billionaire attempted to smile, but his lips were too dry to manage it. His eyes quickly darted to his hand in Bruce's, and he gave a vaguely confused look, but didn't question it. Bruce figured Tony was either too tired to ask, or just glad to have him there.

Just then, the smiling blonde nurse from earlier poked her head in. "Oh, I'm glad to see that you're up, Mister Stark. I'll be back with the doctor to do some tests in ten minutes, and to see how you're feeling. Mister Banner, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave when I get back." Bruce nodded.

"I understand. When will I be able to come back and visit?" The nurse quickly consulted her notes.

"You can visit tomorrow, but not for too long. We need to make sure that Mister Stark here gets his rest to ensure a fast recovery." Bruce nodded again.

"Thanks for all the help, nurse-" The nurse cut him off with a shake of her head.

"You can call me Annie."

"Once again, thanks for everything, Annie." Annie gave a smile and a friendly nod, before dashing off to go find the doctor. Bruce sat and listened to the sound her shoes made as she hurried down the hall. Gradually, the click of her heels faded away into the general commotion of the hospital. Bruce and Tony sat in silence for a minute, still holding hands. The silence was a bit uncomfortable, because Tony quite clearly found it a bit strange to have another man holding his hand like this, but Bruce wasn't sure that it was a bad kind of strange. Eventually, Bruce spoke.

"How're you feeling?" Tony tried to lift his head but evidently failed, as it came crashing back down to the pillow.

"Shitty." Tony's voice was groggy and Bruce could tell just by hearing his friend speak that it was painful. He gently ran his thumb over Tony's knuckles in reassurance.

"Everything's gonna be okay." Bruce stopped for a minute, smirking a bit as he realised this was exactly what Tony didn't want to hear. Bruce had been in his fellow scientist's position before, and he knew that that wouldn't help. He tried again. "Hey, I know what you're feeling right now. Or what you were feeling last night. Like there's never gonna be an end. Your very existence just seems pointless. But I can promise you, it's not. You'll be glad it didn't work. Hey, look at me. Just a few years ago, I stuck a gun in my mouth and pulled the trigger. Nearly every day I think back on that, and how glad I am it didn't work. There's something or someone out there for you, all you gotta do is go find that."

After Bruce's little motivational speech, there was another minute or two of silence. This time it was more comfortable, and a bit of warmth was starting to return to Tony's hand. Tony had quickly fallen back asleep, but not until giving Bruce a look of thanks and an attempt at a smile. Bruce absentmindedly ran his thumb along the skin below Tony's knuckles as he stared at the injured man's face.

He looked so delicate and vulnerable, which was something Bruce hadn't seen Tony as before. He had always been the Iron Man, invincible and witty, flirty and sarcastic, just exuding confidence. This man lying before him wasn't Iron Man. It wasn't Tony Stark, billionaire inventor and playboy. This was just Tony. A regular, fragile, undeniably human person. And that made him every bit more perfect. From the stubble on his chin to the rise and fall of his chest to the way his eyelids fluttered when he slept, he was perfect. Even with his body bandaged and his skin pale and gaunt, he still looked handsome.

Bruce had always admired his fellow Avenger, but as of late he'd began to wonder if it was more than just admiration. Bruce had always thought he was straight, but recently he'd been questioning that. Tony, on the other hand, appeared to be just about as straight as a man could get. He used to have a different woman in his bed every night before he met Pepper. Looking at him now, Bruce could definitely see the appeal. Even at his weakest and sickest, Bruce could still see the traces of Tony's charm. Bruce thought back to the last time he had seen his friend sober and happy. His jet black hair was mussed with a just woken up look, and the light dustings of gray just made him look more mature and sophisticated. His strong cheekbones and well defined jawline conveyed a sort of strength that very few people had. His flirtatious smirk and the charismatic sparkle in his eyes attracted attention from everyone, be they news reporters or fans or government officials. Tony knew people. He knew how to bend them to his will, to charm and manipulate them into loving him and being his slaves. That quality could be dangerous in a person, because sometimes, he didn't realise he was doing it. And sometimes, by the time he did, it was too late to drag someone out of his spell.

There was a knock on the door. Annie walked back in, this time with an older man, presumably the doctor. He asked Bruce some questions to which he replied, half in a daze. "Does Mister Stark have any family?"

"Not that I know of."

"Does he live alone?"

"Yeah." They continued in this manner for five minutes or so, until the doctor shook Bruce's hand and told him that he could come back tomorrow around three. Bruce thanked him, and wandered slowly out into the hall. The entire ride back to his hotel, he was still thinking about Tony, lying half dead on that hospital bed. He'd thought about it before, but it had only really crossed him mind. Now, he was almost sure of it. What he had mistaken for admiration, he now realised was so much more than that. He pulled to an abrupt stop at a traffic light._ Oh my God,_ Bruce thought, head in hands._ I have a crush on Tony Stark.  
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**_Thanks again for reading! Please leave me a review and tell me what you thought!_**


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